No Longer a Child
by theAirshipLibrarian
Summary: Just a little drabble I did after watching "From Up On Poppy Hill" for the first time. I was touched by the amount of responsibility and work that Umi did for the family, and this piece is influenced by that. One-shot


Scant light peeked through the curtains of the window, poking through Umi's tightly shut eyelids. For years she had gotten up with the sun and now even the slightest sliver of its rays was enough to nudge her out of sleep.

She sat up on her futon and yawned, her brown hair messy with sleep and falling into her face. Then with one last, mournful yawn, she shrugged off sleep and rose, awakening her determination for the coming day. She gave herself a minute to stretch, reaching her arms up over her head, and then bent down to fold her blanket and futon up, stacking them neatly by the wall.

Tiptoeing, she crept through the room, over her younger sister, Sora, who was still in the land of dreams. She grabbed her skirt and blouse from a hanger as she left the room and took them with her to the washroom, where she changed her clothes, washed her face, and braided her hair. Now she was ready. Now she could begin the many tasks.

First the kitchen. She checked the rice cooker to make sure it was full. Check. She lit the cooker, and began to cut the vegetables for breakfast. All that done with, she moved on to her personal favourite and least favourite part of the morning.

It was her favourite because it was the time she connected to her father; she cherished the memory of him, cradling it in the deepest parts of her heart. She hated it because with it came the relieving of her painful emotions. Though healing had begun to scab over the pain, she still encountered raw grief when she thought of her strong, loving, and laughing father.

She stopped in front of the small table holding a glass of water, a bouquet of flowers, and the photo holding the beautiful face of her father. She picked up the photograph and stared, trying to engrave it deeper into her mind. She wasn't sure what hurt more, looking at his likeness, or realizing that slowly she had forgotten his face without it. She put the picture down again, stroking the glass lightly before picking up the glass of water and taking it to the sink. She poured her father another cup and brought it to him.

"I'll raise the flags again, father," she whispered. "May you see them, and may you come home."

_ If only that were possible. _

She shook that thought from her head and left the house, going out the back door into the garden where a flag pole stood tall, calling to the ships below in the sea. She went to the flag and lovingly tied two flags around the rope before starting to pull the other side of the rope so that the first side, the one with the flags, rose high into the air, blowing pleadingly in the wind, beckoning for the safe return of those she loved.

She whispered a prayer for her father, wiped a tear from her eye, and then ran back to the house to check on breakfast. It was finished, and like boarders began to appear like clockwork.

"Umi, this is so good! How do you do it day after day?"

"A high school student too. Goodness knows I never did this much when I was in high school."

"You just flirted, you silly thing."

"Did not!"

Umi smiled distantly at the banter of the boarders and then winced as footsteps came crashing on the stairs. A young boy came running in haphazardly, his hair in a mess and his clothes wrinkled.

"Please, Ryoko, gently."

He made a face at his older sister and slid into his chair, gulping food down as quickly as he could.

Soon Hana, Umi's grandmother came in, and Sora. All sat down to eat and too soon it was over, and time for school.

"I'm going, Umi!" Sora called, her first year high school uniform brushed and smoothed. "See you later!"

Umi tried to must a smile, but failed and instead focused on clearing the dishes. She wouldn't have time to wash them before school, which was a shame, but would have to be dealt with. She glanced at the clock. She wouldn't have time to finish the laundry either.

She rushed up to her room where she took her uniform down from the hanger and ran them through the press, just to make sure no wrinkles were left. Moments later, she too was running down the road towards school.

As she ran she kept a mental check list. She had finished all her homework, hadn't she? Chemistry? Check. Math? Check. Language? Check. History? Check. She hoped she hadn't forgotten anything. She'd been so tired after dinner yesterday that she had scarcely been able to stay awake through homework.

Sometimes, she had to admit, though she hated to, she felt a little bitter towards Sora and Ryoko. They had so little to do, and were so free. Then again, she wouldn't wish so much responsibility on either of them. Let them grow up in their own time. They had their places, she had hers, and she wouldn't trade. She liked her duties, she liked being such a grownup. Mostly.

But sometimes late at night as she lay on her futon too tired to sleep, she would curl onto her side and wonder what it would be like to be free. Free to play with her friends after school, or to sit and read a book for fun instead of for school. To come home to a house warm and dinner already made, a mother smiling at her, and a father outside with a new lesson in signal flags for her.

She had reached the school now and she stopped, letting herself gather her thoughts before going inside. She sniffed and wiped her eyes- another tear, today was a more emotional day, she noticed. She smiled, squared her shoulder, and prepared to go into the school where she would be met by a wild menagerie of kids. A menagerie of wonderful, exciting, and just plain weird _kids. _


End file.
